P/0 

4/30 

Gr 




Book jCtt 

Copyright^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSfT 



TEN TALKS 



ON 



THE READER'S ART 

BY 

MR. C. E. W. GRIFFITH 

Reader for the Chicago Shakespeare dub 



CHICAGO 

THE HENRY O. SHEPARD CO., PRINTERS, 
I905 






LIBRARY of 30NGfitSS 
Two Copies deceived 

WAY 27 i^U5 

n Gopyrignc tnuw 



Copyright, 

Chas. E. W. Griffith, 

1905. 



TO 

The Chicago Shakespeare Club 
whose lofty purpose 

IS TO 

UPLIFT THE TASTE OF THE PEOPLE IN 

LITERATURE, MUSIC AND ART 



CONTENTS 

First Talk — The Reader's Art 7 

Second Talk — The Reader 13 

Third Talk— Poets 17 

Fourth Talk — Nature 21 

Fifth Talk — Nature and Art 25 

Sixth Talk — Physical Expression 31 

Seventh Talk — Principles of Physic \l Expression 37 

Eighth Talk — Hints to Young Readers .... 43 

Ninth Talk — Suggestive Studies in Shakespeare . 55 
Tenth Talk — Sentences for Practice . . . .61 



FIRST TALK 

THE READER'S ART 

What is reading? What is the reader? Why do we 
read aloud? What is the reader's place among artists? 
Is the reader's place equal in dignity to that of the 
painter, the sculptor, the musician ? Is Henry Irving as 
much to Shakespeare as Patti is to Verdi? Was Char- 
lotte Cushman as great an artist as Jenny Lind? Is 
Paderewski more to Chopin than Bernhardt to Sardou? 

To answer these questions intelligently we must first 
note the fact that literature is the most valuable work 
of man. Literature is the wealth of the ages. It is 
man's golden heritage. All that man has felt, thought 
or done is recorded in the libraries of the world. 

Now, it is the work of the reader to interpret lit- 
erature to the world, to illuminate the written page with 
the halo of his art; to give to the world an interpreta- 
tion of the poetry of all ages that mere silent reading 
can not yield to us. The reader is the greatest of all 
artists because his best art appeals not only to the 
fancy, as does that of the musician, but because his 
work appeals more strongly than that of any other artist 
to the intellect, to the soul! 

Why, then, is the reader less popular than other 
artists? We say his art is the most useful, the highest, 
the noblest. The reader is less popular than other 
artists because it is the distinctive feature of his art 
that it appeals to the intellect more than to the emo- 
tions. 

It is easier to appeal to brawn than to brains. Men 
can feel without the effort required to think. Emotions 
are more easily awakened than ideas. This, then, is the 
reason the reader is not appreciated as he should be. 
Besides, many seek in art mere entertainment. While 
entertainment is one of the uses of art, it is nut the 



highest use. What pleases the eye and delights the ear 
without causing people to think, is what they like best. 
Some people are so animal, indeed, that they must eat, 
drink and smoke while they listen to a program of 
music or recitation. Must we cater so exclusively to the 
animal instincts for fear of mental fatigue? 

In all ages there have been classes of even educated 
people who preferred trash to truth and trumpery to art. 

People of weak character and uncertain aim in life 
do not care to employ their time in mental culture or 
make the effort that is necessary to enjoy a literary per- 
formance. 

One can not witness a performance of ' ' Macbeth ' ' or 
' ' Hamlet " or " Lear " or " Othello ' ' without having his 
intellectual faculties taxed to their utmost capacity. 
Hence, the neglect of the legitimate drama. 

Reading taxes the intellectual faculties of the hearer 
more even than the best acting. The simplest forms of 
the art of expression are the most popular, the legiti- 
mate drama less so, and reading the least popular of 
all. This state of things is itself the proof of the fine- 
ness of the actor's art and the superfineness of the 
reader's art. 

Reading can not be enjoyed by the class of people 
who enjoy the "buck and wing" and the "ten-minute 
sketch." Reading is so truly an intellectual art that a 
fine scholar will often prefer to hear a play read rather 
than to see it acted. Reading is, then, the highest form 
of art, because it is the most intellectual art, and because 
it brings us nearest to the master minds and hearts of 
all nations and ages. 

Because of the intellectual character of the reader's 
art he is often supplanted by the so-called entertainer. 
The entertainer may have no education, no talent, no 
culture ! He may have a weak personality and not one 
artistic impulse or motive; but he will be successful in 
his way because he appeals to the sensuous, to the com- 
mon or to the low. The entertainer often pleases by 



the merest trick. If he can buzz like a saw, twitter like 
a bird or chatter like a monkey, he will be popular. He 
may pull a string to work a marionette show or he may 
perform the dime-museum acts, and he will be applauded, 
while the poet, who sings of truth, and the reader, who 
magnifies the splendor of the poet 's art may be left ' ' to 
read his lines alone, ' ' unheard, unloved and unremem- 
bered. 

Mr. Gladstone said, ' ' Heading is the finest of the fine 
arts. Would to God the English people might learn 
to love it better and appreciate its worth ! ' ' 

Heading is an old art. Picture to your mind the blind 
Homer reading his ' ' Iliad ' ' in the streets of Athens ! 
Picture those sturdy Roman youths reciting, to musical 
accompaniments, whole chapters of Virgil's harmoni- 
ous hexameters. 

Reading preceded the art of singing! In fact, it is 
the origin of music. Early writers employed forms of 
poetry rather than prose, because in poetry there are 
regular accents to rest the vocal organs and regular 
pauses to rest the breathing apparatus. Poetry, it 
must be remembered, is written to be read aloud or 
heard in imagination. 

Heading is the art that combines entertainment with 
moral and intellectual culture. It delights while it 
elevates and educates. In the practice of reading, we 
develop our natures symmetrically; mentally, morally 
and vitally. The reader is different from other artists 
in that he is himself the agent of his own expression. 
The art of reading is in itself a liberal education. The 
pursuit of reading yields a more direct return for 
our efforts than the pursuit of any other art. The 
sculptor expends his energies on stone, the painter on 
his canvas, but the reader is employed in cultivating 
himself. A reader becomes great in proportion to his 
soul growth. 

And now it must be admitted that, while reading is 
the highest form of art, an old form of art, and yields 



its followers the richest rewards, it is also the most 
difficult of all arts. 

The reader must be a scholar! The reader must be 
a thinker! A logician — a philosopher! The reader 
must be sympathetic, imaginative— a poet! He must 
possess a fine literary taste and a certain very keen 
poetic sense. The reader must possess a profound sym- 
pathy to be able to put himself in touch with the char- 
acter he portrays and with his audience to whom he 
reads. 

The reader must possess a fine intelligence that he 
may be able to distinguish what is good in literature 
from what seems to be good. Above all, the reader must 
be noble, and he must have a high ideal and an aim 
in his art to give point and direction to his work. 

Eeading has to do with the thought within and the 
form without. It has to do with the very workings 
of the soul, revealing itself through the expressive agents 
of the body. 

The physical requirements of the reader are very 
great. How extensive should be the cultivation of the 
voice when we realize that every word in the language 
requires its own peculiar utterance. Emphasis and 
phrasing are in themselves the study of a lifetime. 

It is not the end of painting to mix colors, or of 
elocution to produce sounds. The reader must culti- 
vate his mind! He must ennoble his heart while he 
trains his body! The reader is himself the object of 
his art. 

This is an age in which the reader must be bold, 
aggressive and enthusiastic if he would do the world 
some little good. Let his aim be: "Better readings, 
better rendered. ' ' Let it be his ambition to elevate 
the artistic and literary taste of the people. Is it pos- 
sible that after the centuries of so-called popular edu- 
cation, we have a lower standard of some forms of art 
than that of the Greeks'? Cheap printing is doubtless 
one cause of this condition. Readers must strive to 



counteract its influence. Is it not a shame that the 
"barrack-room ballads" of Kipling, often vulgar, 
always dialectic, seldom graceful or imaginative or 
beautiful, should represent the standard of popular 
English taste, and that in America our Longfellows 
and our Whittiers and our Bryants should be cast aside 
because of the popular preference for the dialectic 
rhymes of newspaper poets ? Oh, literature of England, 
what a mighty fall from Shakespeare to Kipling! 
Poetry of my country, what has befallen thy muse that 
she now subscribes herself Anon when formerly she 
wrote Bryant? The standard of the literary taste of 
certain societies has become not only bad, but ludicrous. 
The following program is an example of a literary 
evening at one of our conservatories of dramatic art: 

' ' When pa comes home ter lunch. ' ' 

"Goin' a fLshin\ " 

1 ' Courtin ' Mary Jane. ' ' 

' ' Specialy Jim. ' ' 

Do you think by the teaching of such readings the 
life of the people will be much ennobled ? 

It is certainly one of the objects of reading to enter- 
tain, but the reader never should seek to entertain with- 
out giving at the same time some little lasting benefit. 
Xo sensible person would object to a selection because 
it were funny. Humor has its place, and it is a high 
place in literary art, but dialect is not wit; vulgarity is 
not humor; silliness is not amusement; buffoonery is 
not acting. 

It is the reader 's mission to interpret and render 
what is good in modern literature, and to revive by his 
renditions the priceless treasures of the classics. Enter- 
tainment is but the secondary aim of the reader's art. 



SECOND TALK 

THE READER 

What the player is to the sonata; what the actor is 
to the drama; what the singer is to the song, the reader 
is to the poem. We have national poets; we should 
have national readers. England has her poet-laureate; 
why has she no reader-laureate? What were harps with 
no skilful fingers to sweep over them? What were bugles 
without firm lips to blow them? Operas require singers, 
dramas require actors and literature requires readers. 

There is no musical instrument, wind or string, to 
compare with the human voice. There is no expression 
like that of the human face. The Parian marble statue 
is beautiful, but only the lips of man are eloquent. 
The portrait is a great realization in color, but its rarest 
tears do not move us nor its painted smiles cheer us 
like those of the living face. 

There is a great mission for the artistic reader. As 
Patti interprets the compositions of Gounod, Paderewski 
the measures of Chopin, so the reader should interpret to 
the world the creations of our poets. It is the mission of 
the reader to interpret to the world the beauties of lit- 
erature, whether simple love tale or mighty epic, and 
place them in the hearts of his hearers, as the painter 
places his pictures on canvas before us. As poets 
breathe into old thoughts new beauty, so that beauty 
itself is enhanced by the art of the reader. The Hebrew 
poetry was a reincarnation of the Hindoo, the Greek 
of the Hebrew, and modern poetry is but ancient embers 
of beauty fanned into life by the inspiration of nine- 
teenth-century poets, and as the poet sets old songs to 
new music, so the reader, without sacrificing in any way 
the work of the poet, adds his own harmonious imperson- 
ation and sings, as it were, a sympathetic rendition. 

13 



As the geologist reads the deeply hidden secrets writ- 
ten by the Creator's hand on the rocks, as the astonomer 
climbs the walls of heaven to discover new wonders there, 
so the true reader with the wings of both philosophy and 
poesy rises to the heights by poets and philosophers 
indicated and by the aid of a mighty sympathy discovers 
new glories there and reveals them like an oracle to 
the lover of truth and beauty. 

The personality of the reader can so illumine the 
lines he produces that the dullest poem will seem beauti- 
ful. What mighty effulgence, then, may he not add to 
the intensity of Byron, to the ethereal splendor of Keats? 

We have many actors who are capable of presenting 
our great plays. What cause for regret that we have so 
few representative readers of Dante, of Goethe and Mil- 
ton! There are, in verse, no sweeter, purer lines than 
those of our own Longfellow. Where is the reader who 
can read his lines with half the ability that the ordi- 
nary singer exhibits in the execution of a drawing-room 
ballad? Eeading is not looked upon as the high art 
that it is. We forget that books are the true metemp- 
sychosis. They are the most valuable heritage of time. 
The British Museum, with its thirty-two miles of shelves 
and its million volumes, is the monument of the world's 
growth! It is the wonder of time! It is the wealth of 
ages! It is the glory of man! There are the rich 
treasures of the Sanskrit, the Hebrew and the Greek. 
There is the wisdom and philosophy of Bibles of all 
beliefs and the prophecies and conceptions of the yogis 
of the Orient, the adepts of India, the prophets of Israel, 
the Sybils of Greece and Home and the seers and dream- 
ers of all times. There is the record of man's progress, 
like the Mohammedan's pilgrimage to Mecca, two steps 
forward and one backward, repeated through many ages. 

We forget in this age of many books and much 
reading the value of the written page and the honor 
due to him who truthfully interprets it. 

All hail the reader who shakes the dust from the 
neglected volume of the poet. All hail the classical 



singer. All hail the reader of legend and tale and tra- 
dition ! 

"Yes, read from the grand old masters; 

Eead from the bard, sublime, 

Whose distant footsteps echo 

Through the corridors of time! 

' ' Bead from the treasured volume 
The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 
The beauty of thy voice; 

' ' And the night shall be rilled with music, 
And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents like Arabs, 
And as silently steal away.' ' — Longfellow. 

But the reader, like all other artists, in order to make 
his influence felt, his work effective, is forced to con- 
sider not only what the public should have and how it 
should be delivered, but what the public will have and 
how it must be delivered. He must select such subjects 
as are within the reach of his hearers, but yet of a 
nature to require them to look upward. He must culti- 
vate a style of expression that, although ideal in its 
character, is yet sufficiently modified to be understood. 

The reader must remember that it is the character 
of the artist speaking through his rendition that forms 
the true standard by which he is to be judged. It is 
the sensitive and sympathetic reader of congenial 
impulse who reads with a noble purpose that is the 
greatest of readers. The reader must not appear to 
try to move his audience. He must rather appear to be 
moved himself, and reading with the author, he should 
seem to be producing the lines while the poet is sug- 
gesting them to him for the first time. Intense sympathy 
with his subject will generate more sympathy in his 
audience than the most slavish observance of the laws 
of melody or the rules of gesture can do. It is the 
fixed resolution on the part of the reader that causes 



conviction. He must will to move his audience ; will 
to control them. The reader should possess a sensitive 
nature— receptivity and responsiveness. The reader 
should possess also a sublime sympathy, putting him in 
touch with his author, whom he interprets, and with bis 
hearers, whom he instructs. The reader must possess ij 
also in a large degree the power of subtle, delicate and 
intricate suggestion, and, above all, the superior judg- j 
ment of literary values. Vocal and physical culture are ;j 
secondary requirements. It is not difficult to recite 
''Macbeth," but it is difficult to think and feel "Mac- 
beth. ' ' 

The mental part of reading is the principal part, 
but as the painter who is ignorant of perspective and 
chiaroscuro and the musician who is ignorant of har- 
mony and notes and scales can scarcely hope to deliver 
their messages satisfactorily, so the reader who observes 
not the principles of sound and form expression can ' 
hardly hope to edify the minds or move the hearts of his 
hearers. 

Let us cultivate, then, the power of literary appreci- 
ation- cultivate the power of poetic conception; cultivate ! 
sympathy and imagination; cultivate the musical powers 
of the voice; cultivate the expressive powers of the ' 
hand, the face and the body. Aeolian harps yield music 
when the wind plays upon them. Tune the body; it is 
the most wonderful' of all musical instruments. Love the 
poet and he will breathe through you wonderful magical 
music. 



THIRD TALK 
POETS 

"Poetry is the effect of a fine frenzy."— JHacaulay. 

1 ' The poet 's mind is a universe of its own, including 
the most distant star and the nearest field flower."— 
■ Bcecher. 

"Poets effect their objects of wisdom by a certain 
natural inspiration and under the influence of enthusi- 
asm like prophets and seers. "—Socrates. 

1 ' As imagination bodies forth 
The form of things unknown, 
The poet's pen turns them to shapes, 
And gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name." — Shakespeare. 

For thirteen centuries the Latin has been a dead 
language, but the Greek and Latin poets still sing to us 
and will sing on to our children's children forever. 

Poetry is thought crystallized in words. Poets are 
men nearer to God than philosophers and nearer to 
nature than scientists. The calling of trumpets, the 
beating of drums and the thundering of artillery would 
be poor celebration, indeed, with which to honor the 
poet's birth; yet the poet sings his sweetest songs and 
completes his mission without acclaim. Few poets are 
crowned while living. The laurels they have with noble 
efforts won, fall upon their sacred dust from the hands 
of a tardy world, ready at last, but too late to pay the 
homage due. The " Mahabbharata " of Vyasa, the great 
Hindoo epic ; the songs of Solomon, the literary flower 
of the Bible; the "Iliad" of Homer, and Milton's 
"Paradise Lost," are creations that tower among the 
centuries like the mighty pyramids on the banks of 
Egypt 's Xile. The poet is the epitome of language, 
and poetry is the wealth of man. "Poets," says a 

17 



modern writer, "are the Merarchs and pontiffs of the 
world, who, Prometheus-like, can shape new symbols 
and bring new fires from heaven to fix them into the 
deep, infinite faculties of man." Poetry is our Italy, 
full of gods and temples. As Moses, of old, smote the 
rock and brought forth a flood of living water; so the 
poets' magical art touches the hard facts of life and 
they turn into a flood of music. Hark! It is the poet's 
voice that comes ringing down the centuries! Listen, it 
is the melodious voice of Virgil singing the praises of 
Augustus! How tenderly rise and fall the noble meas- 
ures upon the listening ear! Hark! A richer, deeper 
strain; it is Horace reciting his verses! Now, again, 
we hear the beautiful Zenaphon reading the lines of 
the ' ' Anabasis. ' ' Now, list to that chivalrous voice 
from the North ! It is the voice of the Ariosta of the 
Northern Hills! It is Scott, the minstrel singer of 
bravery and battle! Hark to the deep, rich voice from 
the Seine! It is Corbillion mingled with that of 
Racine ! Hark ! Prom the Rhine comes the melodious 
chanting of Goethe and Schiller! Now from the North 
again, from the storm-beaten shores of Britain, comes 
thundering down the ages the voices of the mighty Mil- 
ton and the glorious Shakespeare. 

Poets are prophets! "Wordsworth and Southey and 
Coleridge had all sung the prophetic songs of freedom 
in anticipation of the French Revolution. During the 
usurpation of Napoleon the greatest of these, Words- 
worth, had never ceased to sound the warning voice. 

Poets are patriots! Byron was the rebellious mouth- 
piece of modern Europe, and with wonderful magic his 
eloquence fired the Greeks for battle! 

Poets are the ideal historians! What were the 
memoirs of Greece without a Homer? Augustus without 
Virgil, or England without Shakespeare? Poets and his- 
torians are the counterparts of each other; one looks to 
the future and one to the past. Poets are the organs 
of a nation 's expression. Saltus says : ' ' Hugo is the 
voice of the century, DeMusset the sob, Balzac the echo, 

18 



Bandalier the sneer and Gautier the smile!" The poet 
belongs to the world, not to nations. The Germans are 
most devoted to Shakespeare and Italians love Milton as 
well as Dante. Imagination is kindled, tears are wrung 
and smiles are induced, on the shores of the Eastern or 
Western seas by the mighty art of the same poet! 
Contemporanious de tons les hommes et citoyens de tons 
de Ueux. A Khan of Tartary smiles at Mark Twain. 
Americans and Europeans delight to delve into the rich 
mystery and splendid erudition of the poetry of India 
and China. The splendors of Byron and the musical 
pathos of Keats move all alike, the dwellers on the busy 
Thames, the legendary Ehine or the sad Euphrates. The 
poet's mind adds luster to all he sees and feels. He 
reveals in an idealized form the ideas and writings of 
others. Byron gives us in his works not only a revela- 
tion of his own mind and inspiration, but mingled there- 
with the idealized essence of the eloquence of Quin- 
tillian, Cicero and Demosthenes; the philosophy of 
Paley, Bacon and Locke; the knowledge of the law of 
Blackstone and Montesquieu, while his writings contain 
a delightful resume of the historians of all ages. Emer- 
son's style reveals the influence of Oriental floods, Eliza- 
bethan waves and tingeings of Montague and Corbitt. 
Carlyle's style shows how greatly his love of German 
literature influences his own, so much so that he is called 
the "English Eichter." 

Great social and political conditions are necessary 
to produce a poet. Ancient Greece and the oriental 
nations united to produce Plato, Herodotus and Aeschy- 
lus. Tetrarch and Dante were born of the Eenaissance 
in Italy after a storm of political and religious revolu- 
tion had swept over the country. When the slow blood 
of England had been quickened with the impulse born 
of the discovery of a new world and the conquest of 
broader realms, she gave birth to Spencer, Milton and 
Shakespeare. It is to great national agitations in our 
own day we owe Whittier, Wordsworth, Burns and 
Shelley. 



Poets are and ever have been rare. Italy, with the 
most poetical of all languages, has produced but five: 
Dante, Tetrarch, Ariosto, Tasso and Alfieri. Modern 
verse, because of its perfect prosody and want of feel- 
ing, is more like rhyming prose than true poetry. The 
prose writings of Lamb, Poe, Euskin, Lander and 
DeQuincy are sometimes more poetical than the pon- 
derous, rythmically correct and tiresomely exact lines of 
even Tennyson or Swinburne. 

Poets, like all artists, must be considered apart from 
their lives; for when poets produce their works, they 
are transported beyond themselves. In judging their 
lives we must remember that the soul may be pure while 
the mind and body chain it down to earth and evil, but 
in its better moods, when temporarily liberated, it may 
soar heavenward to commune with its Creator to whom it 
shall one day return, pure as the edelweiss that sleeps 
on the Alps in its bed of snow, and bright and beautiful 
as the evening star that bids us look up to heaven. 

It should engage the highest art of all nations to 
lift a fitting monument to the poet. ' ' The signal flags 
of the poet's triumph alone shall float in unrivaled 
splendor above the world forever. ' ' 

Some day in some distant realm, we shall behold 
the poet reverenced above the monarch. Those who now 
worship Mammon and scorn the Eitual of Beauty shall 
bow down before those Avho, though burdened with the 
faults of humanity, nevertheless attained to spiritual 
and intellectual greatness. Hail to the poet ! who, though 
tossed about by the sea of shifting destiny, still sees 
the light on the distant shore and hears in his soul the 
music of far-off melodies. 



FOURTH TALK 

NATURE 

God has given us nature. God, speaking through 
nature, has given us art. The distinction between art 
and nature is the first subject that engages the atten- 
tion of the artist student. ' ' The groves were God 's 
first temples, ' ' says Bryant. From the suggestion of 
the forest temples sprang our cathedrals — from reeds 
and rushes came the harp and organ. 

Art is nature perfected or idealized. Art is appar- 
ent nature illuminated. 

The Infinite mind speaks to us in two ways: by 
intuition and perception. We perceive nature through 
the senses. Art and nature stand side by side, and the 
triumphs of the one are the triumphs of the other. 
From the reflected image on the water's surface came 
the oil painting; from the tempest-hewn rock, the 
statue; and from the whispering wind and murmuring 
torrent, the symphony and sonata. 

Nature is man's great teacher; communion with her 
forms and symbols is something more than a sentiment — 
it is a literal joining to the Infinite Being. What we 
receive when we embrace the impressions of a natural 
element is as real as anything that touches us or makes 
us feel with the senses. Nature speaks to all men 
differently. For some, she has a spirit of love as she 
had for Shelley; for some, a spirit of awe and grandeur, 
as she had for Milton. Nature, to Wordsworth, was a 
living presence of thought and passion; to Tennyson, a 
process of law including both. Dante 's soul was im- 
pressed with the profound and terrible in nature, while to 
Burns nature spoke in a low sweet voice. To Keats, 
nature was a magical, mystical revelation of melody and 
beauty. Nature to Byron was splendid and romantic; to 

21 



Whittier she spoke of freedom; to Bryant of love and 
truth. 

These various expressions of nature give us the dif- 
ferent personalities of genius. To the scientist, nature 
is a law-giver; to the poet, she is an eternal panorama 
of beauty, and to the philosopher, she is the voice of 
truth itself. To all of us the voice of nature is ever 
whispering her messages, and according to the capacities 
of men that voice speaks of joy or grief, of love or 
hate, of evil or of good. 

He is the noblest man who can enter into the closest 
communion with truth; who can understand most cor- 
rectly the visible signs through which truth speaks. 

"The soul attuned to truth is half a god!" 

The prophets of old, the sybils and the yogis com- 
muned with nature, and their lonely, prayerful seekings 
were fruitful of oracular messages that are beyond the 
wisdom of philosopher, scientist or mathematician. 

Nature speaks to all men; the artist hears and obeys. 
The artist tells us with chisel or scalpel or pen what 
nature told him when he loved her most. 

Language is at once the most simple and the most 
complex form of expression. Language is the glory of 
creation. The thoughts of all men of all times are 
crystallized in books and ' ' The orators of the world have 
made it." Some artists find word-language inadequate 
for their satisfactory expression. Eaphael spoke the 
poetical and melodious language of Italy, but he im- 
pressed the world not with that tongue but by the 
painted tear-drops on the cheek of a madonna. With a 
brush he made form and color do what word language 
could not do for him. Murillo spoke the musical and 
expressive language of Spain, but he found no words in 
which to crystallize the results of his soul-flights — 
he wrote them out in color. Solomon, Homer, Dante and 
Milton wrote what Eaphael, Eubens and Murillo painted 
—what Angelo, Praxiteles and Phidias wrought into 
marble. So all artists speak a language of their own. 



The musician stands listening to the murmuring brooklet, 
and he weaves with it the trembling notes of a lark or 
thrush and gives it back to the world a symphony or a 
sonata. The painter stands at sunset and receives into 
his soul the glory of a dying day. He gathers the 
tints of the flowers and the delicate outlines of the 
plant or shrub and he gives them back to us in his 
painting, all illumined with the light of his person- 
ality. He steals the crimson from a cheek, the glance 
from an eye, the curl from a head, and to-morrow we 
find them all in his picture, idealized, with every non- 
essential left out. 

Art, then, is the arrangement of colors, sounds, mo- 
tions and forms so as to idealize nature without imi- 
tating her. 

We have been listening to a choice musical selection 
—Beethoven 's ' ' Moonlight Sonata. ' ' What do we 
mean when we say he composed it ? Why, this : He 
gathered the silver moonlight, the fragrance of roses and 
lilies and the silence of night, and with the magic of 
his art he so wove them in with the nightingale 's song 
and the whispering zephyr that the fabric portrayed the 
love-tale of his heart. The murmuring of the brooklet, 
the signing of the wind, the rushing of the torrent or 
the wild bird's cry are not music; but these are the 
materials out of which the concerto, the nocturne, the 
rhapsody and the sonata are made. 

That ' ' Sunset, ' ' by Turner, is not a copy of any 
sunset that the painter ever saw; it is the realization of 
all the sunsets that Turner ever saw or dreamed of. 

Let us, then, as artists, seek in nature inspiration 
for our work. Nature is God's expression — vast, 
infinite, beautiful, profound! Nature is the oracular 
fountain of beauty. Let us hie there like the sybils of 
old! Nature is our Jerusalem! Let us tarry there 
until we are imbued with power from on high! 

Go, then, lover of the beautiful, and seek the source 
of your strength! It may be in the barren fields of the 
far North, full of wildness and desolation, where the 

23 



glaciers hiss and the ice banks whirl, that you will find 
the power for your action. It may be in the golden 
tropics — the clime of the yellow fruit and the sweet- 
scented flower— where nightingales, in their orange-grove 
homes, breathe forth their lovely warblings to the red 
moon! It may be there amid the august and classical 
splendors of the land of Isis, where blossoms the white 
flower of the Nile, and the Eternal Cypress lifts itself 
into majestical splendor! It may be there where the 
nodding asphodel and the trembling poppy and the 
flowering acacia rival each other in beauty. It may be 
there where the lotus waves her silver flowers, and the 
crimson flamingoes open to the day; where the swan and 
the pelican dress their plumage in the blue waves ; where 
the orange and citron intertwine their branches, and 
the stately palms and huge tamarisks thicken the shade; 
where the pale pink flowers of Egypt smile so sweetly, 
kissed by the gentle dews of heaven! It matters not 
where we seek our inspiration, so that, like little chil- 
dren, we open our hearts to nature; for then we shall 
feel the glory of Almighty God touching us. 



FIFTH TALK 

NATURE AND ART 

' ' The history of man we read in the rocks, his 
prophecy in the stars. ' ' 

Come, let us have this talk under the open sky. Yes, 
this moss-covered mound, dotted with blossoms, shall be 
our resting place, and the gentle zephyrs fanning our 
cheeks shall blow us beloved repose — the rarest gift the 
Fates bestow upon nineteenth-century mortals. 

Let us rest here 'neath the bright blue arch of 
heaven, ' ' the hand of God inverted above us, ' ' and for- 
getting whether we be Realist, Idealist, or pre-Eaphaelist, 
Romanticist, Impressionist, Humorist, Historian, Del- 
sartean or adherent to the Natural School of Expres- 
sion, let us reverently open our hearts to nature. 

Behold, on the face of nature is written in blazing 
letters this motto: 

' ' Beauty is truth, and all truth revealed is beauti- 
ful. ' ' 

In the pursuit of art, impressions of nature are what 
we must first seek — scientific knowledge afterward. See, 
here is a beautiful wild rose growing at our feet just 
awakening from a night 's repose 'neath the watch of 
the silver moon! Let us not separate its petals to count 
or classify them! Never mind what botanical family 
it belongs to! Let us now feel the appealing sense of 
its loveliness! Let us not like children tear the tender 
blossoms to find the delicate perfume! 

Now, notice that isolated spray of golden-rod grow- 
ing among the reeds and rushes yonder! It is the only 
flower there of its kind, yet how proudly it waves its 
yellow blossoms — chosen blossoms of Columbia. Let 
us not pluck it; removal would rob it of half its charm! 
It is its relation to the darker shades about it that 
enables us to feel its beauty. There at some distance 



is the stump of a once mighty oak wreathed in ivy. Do 
not botanize it! Do not catalogue it! Do not classify 
it. Never mind its history! That does not now con- 
cern us. That may interest the man of facts, the sci- 
entist, but the poet and artist must seek for something 
in nature beyond facts. There is a real sunset and an 
ideal one; there is a substance and a shadow. We must 
distinguish; facts appeal to the intellect, impressions 
appeal to the soul. As artists, we must see something 
more in the falling of the autumn leaf than a demon- 
stration of the Newtonian hypothesis. 

A dew-drop caressingly pillowed in the bosom of a 
flower must reveal to us something more than a sug- 
gestion of the atomic theory. There is comparatively 
little in the chemical analysis of the vaporous elements 
composing a sunset to furnish food for the artist. "We 
must receive the impression of a sunset as simply as 
children — without a barometer; the glory of the stars 
without a telescope. 

The pigmy brains of scientists who presume to 
understand nature's real plans and formulations are 
often deaf to her music and blind to her beauty. 
Beecher said: "The best introduction to astronomy is 
to think of the mighty heavens as a cluster of little stars 
about our own home." Astronomers measure the 
heavens and locate the stars, oft times remaining insen- 
sible to the vastness they suggest and the glory they 
represent. No, it is not the geographer who sees the 
real beauty of a landscape, nor the botanist who loves 
the wild flowers best. It is the poet who sees the beauty 
of the earth and appreciates its relations among the 
heavenly bodies. It is he who hears the celestial music 
as the universes revolve about each other. It is his 
mind that measures infinite space and locates amid the 
. chaos of the vastness of distance and the wonder of 
never-ending duration, a place, a time! 

It is early dawn ; we are in the fields. Nature is 
hanging her banners of crimson and gold against the 
Eastern sky. The curtain of the Orient will soon be 

26 



withdrawn and Aurora will step forth in royal splendor. 
See how the gentle breeze scatters fleecy clouds of color 
across the heavens, emptying their wealth like immense 
cornucopias of tropical bloom and blossom into the 
path of the now advancing day. Behold! Angels of 
shadow and light, clad in lilies and roses and violets, fill 
the purple air with glory. Now, they trip lightly over 
hill-tops or softly through the forests, smiling away the 
darkness 'neath the tall tree or overhanging rock. Now, 
with myriad-like hands they lift the silver mantle of the 
mist that night had hung over bush and flower. Mantles 
of lace are these, more delicately spun, more intricately 
woven, than any that royalty e'er purchased from 
Mechlin or Valenciennes. This is nature; bow down and 
wonder ! 

Look! The scene is constantly changing. The clouds 
that stood in massive pillars supporting the heavy sky 
of blue and gold, like the marvelous pillars of Babylon, 
sink slowly now and give way and fall behind the earth 
like those of the ancient Assyrian city sunk into the 
sands forever! 

This is nature; bow down and worship her Creator. 
Have you seen sun-risings like those in the Louvre, in 
the Metropolitan Art Gallery, in the National Art Gal- 
lery, in Madrid, in Eome, in Berlin, in any art col- 
lection? Ah no, we are now in God's art gallery. These 
pictures are painted by the magical hand of the Infinite. 

Nature presents a panorama of pictures on the hills, 
on the sea, on the sky, that the artist conveys to his 
canvas as a sort of composite photograph. 

The impressions of the loveliness of nature are won- 
derful realities; no phantoms of the feelings, no illu- 
sive chimeras of the brain. He is the truest artist who 
can draw closest to nature, for nature is the expression 
of God. 



"Beauty by a hair will draw an army heroes can 
not drive." 

' ' Beauty does not belong to him who pays for it, but 
delights every passer-by." 

"It is the relation of the beauties scattered through 
nature to a superior type; it is not an imitation of 
nature but nature illumined." — Delsarte. 

It is not the work of art to make roses out of violets, 
but to make better roses and better violets. Faith is 
the corner stone of the temple of art, as well as of the 
temple of God. Nature is the physical revelation of 
God. Art is the employment of the power of nature 
for an end. Art must be distinguished from nature, 
from science. Science consists in knowing nature. 
Nature is the visible God, or what we know of God, 
through the senses and intuition. Nature is too vast to 
be comprehended. Science is too wonderful to be 
understood. Art is too beautiful to be believed. The 
Greeks believed that the arts had been given to the wise 
by the gods. 

Triptolemus had given to man agriculture; Athena, 
spinning and navigation; Apollo, music. 

There are certain highly complex properties and rela- 
tions of rhythm, proportion and harmony upon which the 
pleasurableness of the arts depends and which, if their 
appeal to the perceptions and imagination is to be suc- 
cessful, are bound to be observed. These effects can only 
be produced by the exercise of an equally complex set of 
faculties in the artist. Habit, rule and calculation may 
help the artist, but in the essential part of his art, he 
passes beyond the help of rules and acts by what we 
call inspiration, that is, by the spontaneous and unrea- 
soned working together of infinitely complex and highly 
developed sensibilities and dexterities in his constitution. 
The elements of expression are: form, motion, color 
and sound. 

Man in his lowest state has only pleasures of sense. 
Art broadens life and elevates it, developing first taste 



and after virtue. The sculptor's art is limited. Its 
essence is correctness. Color is more to the painter than 
form. In color Titian surpasses Eaphael. In form- 
Michael Angelo surpasses both. 

But method is not the most necessary thing for the 
artist. A passion for truth and beauty will find its own 
method of revelation. Inspiration is what we need more 
than excellence of method. Method has quenched the 
fires of many a modern artist 's power. 

The ability to work, to take pains, is the highest 
genius. The food for the artist's inspiration is nature 
and the works of those who have preceded him. Art 
represents the composite of man's efforts to reach in 
this life the glories that lie beyond it. 



SIXTH TALK 

PHYSICAL EXPRESSION 

The most supreme, the most wonderful of all the 
powers of conveying thought is the human body, with 
gestures aud tones of voice. Colors and forms, as 
mediums of communication, sink into insignificance 
when compared with it. Ye, who listen to the gospel of 
beauty; ye, who love beauty, which is truth realized in 
matter, contemplate for a few moments the marvelous 
glories of the human body. True, it is not all that God 
made it when, in its loveliness and perfection, he placed 
it a monarch in the Garden of Paradise. Serpents of 
spiritual and physical disease have tempted the body 
out of the gardens of beauty into the wilds of ugliness; 
still it preserves its original likeness to the image of 
God. Do you worship harmony? Do you delight in 
grace? Behold all in the possibilities of the human 
body. 

Observe the hands! There is notning in nature more 
wonderful. Behold the articulations of the fingers and 
wrists! That hand holds in its palm the record of your 
past, the prophecy of your future. That hand expresses 
by its movements every thought, every feeling of your 
soul, even the fixed characteristics of your life. That 
hand asks, gives, pities, blesses and condemns; has a 
vocabulary of its own, mere complete, more emphatic 
than the dictionary of any written language. Think 
not to deceive the palmist. Those lines on your hands 
are the history of your actions; more, of your thoughts 
and aspirations, hopes and fears, joys and sorrows. 
That hand speaks as eloquently to the eye as the voice 
does to the ear. 

The face is the actual mirror of the soul. There is 
no wonder like the wonder of facial expression. Oh! 

31 



the thought on the forehead, the feeling on the cheek and 
the vital instincts on the mouth. Anatomists say that 
many muscles of the body have no other use except to 
aid it in the expression of thought and feeling. The 
face is the index of our lives. It is the battlefield of the 
emotions. It is a map of the mind. The attitudes of the 
body appeal to us more than the inflections of the body. 
The furrowed forehead of thought, the protruding chest 
of the hero, the abnormal abdomen of the gourmand are 
resultant conditions founded on scientific laws. 

When w ( e stand in the galleries of Dresden, Paris or 
London, and behold those ideal models of symmetry 
and outline in sculptured stone, we instinctively cry 
out : ' ' Oh, where are the educational artists that are 
able to impart these elements of beauty to men — forms 
and outlines like these to the human body, so long 
degenerated into a poor suggestion of what it was 
intended to be. This is the work of the teacher of 
Physical Culture; to cultivate the human body, making 
it strong, graceful and symmetrical; to develop its 
possibilities for expression and to restore its beauty, 
making it a fit temple for the soul. 

The highest aim of Physical Culture is to beautify 
and perfect the body, because of the reflex influence 
of higher physical conditions upon the soul and mind. 
We are all models of our kind in the great studio of 
human life, and while vastly inferior to the sculptor's 
ideal, let us so care for and develop our bodies that 
we may still bear traces of the Divine Hand that placed 
man, the most beautiful, the most perfect and the most 
wonderful object of creation among the flowers of 
Eden. 

Now, the body should be cultivated for strength, 
grace, health and expression. It should be cultivated 
for the reflex influence of that culture upon the mind, 
but it should be cultivated for itself. The beauty of 
the body is elevating and inspires the noblest thoughts. 
Its beauty far outrivals all adornments. The possession 
of symmetry of form and grace of movement is more to 



be esteemed than any possession that wealth can pro- 
cure. It is the effect of correct and beautiful action 
upon the soul that we should prize most, but we should 
love the body for itself. It is the temple of an immortal 
spirit. The body helps to lift us up or drag us down. 
With its feet we tread upon thistles or roses; with its 
eyes we see the world beautiful or the world deformed; 
with its ears we hear music in life or constant clamor and 
discord. Ill health compels the noblest mind to limp 
through life loaded with chains, while the spirit that 
comes of good health makes the feet as light as Astery's 
or a nymph in the train of Venus. 

Let us now undertake the improvement of the body 
for expression: 

Stand erect; lift the torso; poise the weight of the 
body on the thighs and balls of the feet; now elevate 
the thoughts and think of higher things. Harmony of 
thought and action are essential to success. We must 
simplify ourselves if we would live again the life we 
lived when wild flowers and birds were our friends, and 
the meadows our favorite salon. At present we will lay 
away our anatomies, our physiologies and hygienes; at 
present we will forget our physicians and surgeons, and 
we will see what deep breathing will do for the blood, 
what relaxation exercises will do for the nerves and what 
gymnastics will do for the stomach. Strychnine is 
recommended for the spine. Let us try bending and 
lifting the body. Salicylic acid is said to cure rheu- 
matism. Let us recommend the Delsartean decomposing 
exercises. Striphaynthis and digitalis are good for the 
heart. Let us try some recomposing exercises. We 
must have proper conditions for the favorable action 
of therapeutics. Let us have the same for Physical 
Culture, and remember that belief and faith are in 
themselves precursors of physical and mental success. 
Incredulity neutralizes the effect of therapeutics, "fear 
and doubt counteract thaumaturgy, " say the Eussian 
doctors, and they are right. 

Let us remember that nature has provided us with 

33 



a form gamut as well as a color gamut and a sound 
gamut. Changing the weight of the body from one 
side to the other, from normal position back and for- 
ward and then moving the body in a circle all without 
bending at the waist, will give us our first exercises in 
controlling the body by the mind. Now stiffen the body, 
now relax it. Stiffen the limbs and then relax them. 
Learn to will and to withdraw the will. Swing the 
hands— let the wrists lead. Think only of controlling 
the motions of the body freely. Now rest; now move; 
now stiffen; now relax; now rest. These exercises are 
to offset the awkward movements that bad habits have 
made second nature to you. Lift the body on the toes; 
lower yourself gradually; lift the arms above the head; 
let the hands fall; swing the arms; bend the body from 
the waist; practice walking a little with the weight on 
the balls of the feet; do not practice one exercise 
long— keep changing. Try not to be automatic. Now 
let us imitate the pose of this statue and of that. Imi- 
tation is not high art of itself, but it is a feature of all 
arts. Practice opposing the head and torso: retreat, 
elevate, relax. Extend the arms; fold them. Swing 
the head. Swing the body at the waist. Stiffen, relax, 
expand. Shake the hands at wrists. These exercises are 
to get the body into a plastic state and to get practice 
in making the body respond readily to the will. Let us 
continue with these shoulder movements. Now practice 
pointing the toes, keeping the knees nearly straight. 
Oppose the hand and foot. Swing the hand right, the 
hands and fingers both relaxed. Close the hands slowly, 
concealing something. Open the hand slowly, revealing 
something. Bring the arms across the chest, concentra- 
ting thought. Extend them, giving out thought. 
Eemember, it is not possible to put the hands in any posi- 
tion nor to move the arms in any direction without 
expression of an idea either consciously or unconsciously. 
We must relax and recompose earnestly until the body 
becomes the ready and the natural agent for the expres- 
sion of the thoughts of the mind and the emotions of 

34 



the whole being. The movement of the body may be in 
the arc of a circle or in straight lines. In practice, 
observe that there is a difference between relaxing for 
a purpose and an inability to keep firm. The difference 
between being nervously tired and muscularly tired is 
that the former is full of disease and the latter is full 
of health. In standing, do not let the weight back on 
the heels. Keep the abdomen back. Make the chest 
broad, it is the seat of life and honor. In your walking, 
practice and try to feel as if you were breathing through 
your legs. Lift the leg from the hip. Expand the 
torso by means of breathing. Practice swinging the leg 
at the thigh until the joints are flexible. Cultivate a 
light step. The right kind of walking generates force, 
so that if it were not for tiring the muscles, we might 
walk on forever. "Cultivate freedom at the extremities 
and control at the centers," says Delsarte. Practice 
the breathing exercises. Breathing clavicularly, dia- 
phragmatically and abdominally. Breathe deeply and 
expel breath explosively, expulsively and effusively. 
Mrs. Browning says : ' ' He lives most who breathes 
most. " "If we analyze breathing, ' ' says the Voice, 
"we find that with the first impulse of inhalation the 
abdomen protrudes, but is soon swallowed up in the 
rising trunk and expanding ribs and intercostal mus- 
cles. ' ' Eemember that harmonious action of the entire 
muscular system is the basis of true physical grace and 
expression. An emotion should sway the entire body 
and a thought should be breathed forth in the attitude, 
facial expression and movements of the hands and arms. 
The body is not supposed to be a statue on which the 
limbs are hung as decorations, but the whole body is a 
glorious instrument for the manifestation of the soul. 
Physical exercises are to overcome awkwardness of 
heredity and ignorance of our own power, faults of 
repression, faulty form of dress and the habits of action 
acquired from contact with others, and from business 
or study. There is an Asmadai, or destroying angel, 
going about the world contorting our features, sinking 



our chests, stiffening our muscles, and we must slay 
him with the strong right arm of exercise, or he will 
slay us first physically, and then, half triumphant, he 
will seize our souls, shrivelling them up as he did our 
chests, narrowing our ideas as he contracted our muscles, 
and our souls, contorted by their temples of clay, will 
hardly be able to make themselves heard or felt, nor be 
able to lift themselves into communion with their 
Creator. 



SEVENTH TALK 
PRINCIPLES OF PHYSICAL EXPRESSION 

We are to undertake to study the art of expression — 
that is, the ways by which the soul reveals itself through 
matter. In life study we have two realities to deal with 
— mind and matter. All mind is God, the Infinite; all 
matter is the creation, the universe. As beings on the 
earth, we are composed of two realities or conditions — 
mind and matter. Mind directs; matter executes- 
obeys. 

Expression is the manifestation by any means of 
mind, of feeling, of emotion, of thought. Thought is 
revealed by the painter principally through color; by the 
sculptor through form, and by the musician through 
sound. Bright colors express joy. Deep lines express 
power. Falling sounds express peace. The most com- 
plete expression is that employed by the reader, that is, 
physical expression, or the expression of soul through the 
living body. 

The body, by its attitude, expresses the general 
tendencies of the soul. Mind predominance controls the 
body, and great thinkers are apt to stoop. Philanthro- 
pists have chest predominance and the torso leads. Vital 
people are defiant and walk upon their heels. Delsarte 
classifies these attitudes very beautifully as: Normal, 
expressing repose; concentric, expressing the mental; 
eccentric, expressing the vital. The parts of the body 
may be classified according to the principle of the 
Trinity, or the union of the mental, moral and vital 
parts of men in one whole — the soul or ego. 

It is the idea of expressional physical training to pre- 
pare the body to portray the inner life. Conventional ges- 
tures are the established modes of expression, as symbols of 
universal sympathies. The force of gesture depends upon 

37 



the height to which the elbow is raised. The higher the 
elbow, the more force is given to the arm in its back- 
ward motion, and hence the more emphasis to the gesture. 
The hands should be used as though they were leaves, 
and the arms the branches. The back of the head and 
the back of the hand oppose each other. When the arms 
are raised above the head, all strength should be con- 
centrated in the upper arm. The degree of the elevation 
of the gesture is determined by the degree of the eleva- 
tion of thought. 

Palms reveal and the backs of the hands conceal, 
mystify. When the head is posed forward, the sugges- 
tion of the attitude is mental; when the hips are thrown 
forward, the suggestion is vital; when the chest is 
thrown forward, the suggestion is spiritual; that is, the 
intellectual sensibility and will contract according to 
the relative strength of the attitude of the body. The 
mind does not always reveal itself in the body; the 
ugliest people often possess the most beautiful souls. 
There is an element in noble character that throws about 
the ugliest person a shadowy grace that no Venus e'er 
dreamed of could rival. But usually the face conveys 
the minutest tendencies of our lives. The whole history 
of our little selves is written there indelibly. He who 
observes carefully may soon learn to read as from a 
written page. Besides the fixed expressions of the face 
and attitudes of the body and lines upon hands the whole 
body takes upon itself the predominant thought. This is 
the primordial principle of human expression. It 
becomes the work of the student to discover these vari- 
ous natural forms of modified expression. Physiognomy 
teaches that many muscles of the face have no other 
use except to aid it in expressing thought and feeling, 
proving that it is natural that we should accompany the 
voice with pantomime. 

The general faults of our attitudes may be cor- 
rected by comparing ourselves with beautiful statues, 
and having found our faults, exercise such parts as 
need development. Statues are idealized natural forms 



and we may pursue their poses and contours, and 
if we do not acquire them ' altogether, we may, in 
a degree, approach them. We grow like that ideal 
physically and mentally and morally which is set up 
before us and Avhieh we worship. The language of 
physical expression is the universal language which has 
no country and no limit, in which all men commune 
with each other and by the idealization of which the 
artist speaks a divine conception to poet and peasant 
alike. Musical expression is divine, lifting men near to 
God. Color expression is deathless, preserving to the 
living the dead past. Form expression is sacred, yield- 
ing outlines of the divine image, but there is no expres- 
sion comparable to that of the human soul, speaking 
through the voice and action of the body. Orators have 
moved the minds of men and of nations ; historians have 
merely recorded their doings. Let the muses continue to 
unite to inspire the reader and the orator in their efforts 
to ennoble literature and move the hearts of men to 
noble deeds. 

In studying the principles of expression we must 
first note some of the effects of passion and emotion upon 
the body: 

I. Conscious strength assumes weak attitudes. 
Conscious weakness assumes strong attitude?. 

3. Passion expands the body. 

4. Thought contracts the body. 
Emotion relaxes the body. 

6. Eepose normalizes the body. 

Joy reveals itself in explosive utterance. 

Sorrow reveals itself through effusive utterance. 

Agitated states of the mind are revealed through 
expulsive utterance. 

10. Vulgarity broadens the body. 

II. Eefinement narrows the body. 

12. Sorrow bends the body. 

13. Sickness makes the body totter. 

14. Joy lifts the lines of the face. 

15. Hate contracts the face. 

39 



16. Scorn lifts the chin. 

17. Sensuous delight closes the eyes. 

18. Sorrow lifts the eyes. 

19. Grief clenches the fists. 

20. Emotion throws the body forward. 

21. Self-control throws the weight of the body on 
retired leg. 

22. Self-protection in the weak causes the body to 
shrink back. 

23. Self -protection in the strong advances the body. 
In considering the effects of soul-states upon the 

body, we must always note temperament and physical 
condition. 

EXERCISES. 

1. Show the avarice of Shyloek by sinking the torso, 
inclining the head, clenching the hands. 

2. Show the sorrow of Constance in ' ' King John ' ' ; 
bowing the head, clenching the hands, bending the body. 

3. Show passional excitement of Cleopatra; clench- 
ing fists, throwing body backward, protruding the chin; 
hands clenched and raised. 

4. Show the majesty of Hermione, in ' ' Winter 's 
Tale"; weight on retired leg, right hand pointing to 
heaven, eyes lifted. Exclaim with her : ' ' Apollo be 
my judge ! ' ' 

GENERAL PRINCIPLES OP EXPRESSION. 

Expression is based primarily upon the principle of 
trinity. The trinity is the union of the mental, moral 
and vital elements in our natures, expressed by eccentric, 
concentric and normal attitudes. 

Another principle of expression is absorption. "We 
feed upon our ideals; we grow like things we worship; 
Ave become the ideals of which our own natures are the 
embryos. 

Art marks the ascension or descension of the spirit 
toward or from its Creator! Ideality is the basis of 
religion; ideality is the basis of art; ideality is the 
basic principle of culture and self-control is its end. 



Still another principle of expression is reflection. 
Onr minds and bodies are the mutual reflections of each 
other; the education of the one is, therefore, the edu- 
cation of the other. We do not cultivate the body for 
its own sake, but for the sake of the effect of higher 
physical conditions upon the soul-states. 

The last and most remarkable principle is the psychical 
principle, which is based upon the intricate relations of 
mind and matter. It relates to personality, magnetism, 
telepatlry and the thought power. 

For an exercise in absorption, meditate upon the 
mercy in Portia 's plea in the Court of Venice ; meditate 
upon the religious inspiration which dominates the life 
of Isabella in ' ' Measure for Measure ' ' ; meditate upon 
the forgiveness which dominates Prospero in the last 
scenes of the "Tempest"; meditate upon temperance 
as taught by the unfortunate experience of Cassio in 
his relations with lago. Meditate upon the nobility of 
womanhood as revealed in the character of Queen 
Catherine in "Henry VIII." 

We absorb the elements of a character if we love it. 



EIGHTH TALK 

HINTS TO YOUNG READERS 

Beading of the better sort must be based upon sym- 
pathetic and technical literary interpretations. The 
atmosphere of the scenes must be preserved. The con- 
tinuity of thought must not be interrupted and the 
ensemble must be a composite of elements in sympathy 
with each other properly classified. 

The reader's skill is tested in subordinating the 
underplots and background of a play to the primary plot 
and the theme. 

True art is in itself the basis of its own" interpreta- 
tion, and pedantic explanations should not be employed 
when suggestive expression in the reading of the text 
may take its place. 

The various roles of plays must receive fine emo- 
tional shading and they must be distinguished by deli- 
cate, yet distinct, suggestions of character. 

The reader must possess unbounded sympathy and 
in all must be moved by a noble aim to read in such a 
way that the logic of events and results of action may 
be shown, for the purpose of broadening the mind and 
ennobling human conduct. 

There is much that may be learned in a single lesson 
that is useful to the beginner in the art of delivery. 
One should stand erect. A man stands with his weight 
equally distributed or on the retired leg. A woman 
stands in harmonic poise with her weight equally dis- 
tributed or on the advanced leg. The tones of the voice 
should be directed well forward. The eye should follow 
the direction of the gesture. The words should be dis- 
tinctly spoken. Enough deliberation should be used in 
reciting lines to suggest extempore delivery. The whole 
body should respond in the expression of emotion. A 

43 



great earnestness is absolutely necessary in appealing to 
an audience. The whole arm should be used in gesturing; 
there should be control at the centers and freedom at the 
extremities. 

Facial expression must be studied with patient care. 
Proper pronunciation, correct phrasing and the proper 
observance of pause and emphasis are absolute essentials 
and are indispensable in all delivery. 

Beading aloud is the best of all practices for the 
student of the reader 's art. 

It is the aim of the reader to read at times as if 
talking; but usually the leader's effects, like those of 
other artists, must be heightened. 

"Art and nature are as near together as two points 
on the equator and as far apart as the north and south 
poles." 

The reader must be a careful and painstaking student 
of human nature. The best manual for him to base his 
study upon is that of the ' ' Immortal Shakespeare, ' ' 
who is distinguished from all the poets in this: He is 
a dramatist of human nature. 

The reader must also study the scientific classifica- 
tion of the physical expression of the "soul-states" as 
set forth in the works of eminent physiognomists. 

Above all, the reader must study life itself in all its 
moods and relationships: childhood, youth, manhood 
and old age. 

EXERCISES. 

1. Practice attitudes of strength : ' weight on retired 
leg, head thrown back, torso expanded. 

2. Practice attitudes of relaxation: torso relaxed, 
feet near together, lips parted, eyes vacant. 

3. Practice attitudes of repose: respect, triumph 
and dejection. Indicate their weakness and their 
strength. 

4. Suggest by your attitude: 

The doubtfulness of Hamlet. 



The rage of Lear. 
The strength of Brutus. 
The poetry of Eomeo. 
The heroism of Antony. 
The boastfulness of Dogberry. 
The majesty of Prospero. 
The vulgarity of Bottom. 
The animalism of Caliban. 
The dignity of Hermione. 
The madness of Ophelia. 
The subtlety of Iago. 
The honor of Othello. 

5. Indicate by your attitude : 

The Miser. 
The Hero. 
The Magician. 
The Little Boy. 
The Little Girl. 
The Youth. 
Old Age. 

6. Practice attitudes for distinguishing males and 
females. 

LESSON ON ' l THE TEMPEST ' ' FOE PRACTICE. 

What task have we before us? To represent the 
highest type of man in Prospero and the lowest type of 
man in Caliban. 

1. How shall I represent the superior man? 

(a) By dignity and majesty of attitude and bearing. 

(Z>) By slow and distinct utterance. 

(c) By majesty of motion. 

'2. How shall I represent the inferior man ? 

By semi-guttural indistinct utterance ; by crouching atti- 
tude; by sunken torso; by contracted hands; by 
separated- legs; by bent knees; by suspicious 
glances; by cowardice and fear of manner. 



3. How shall I make my story clear to the minds of 

my auditors? 

By emphasizing the words bearing upon the plot directly. 
I will give the first scene between Miranda and 
Prospero with great deliberation to show the reason 
for Prospero 's action throughout the play. 

CHARACTERIZATIONS. 

My Ariel must have a pure, simple, ethereal voice. 
My Antonio, a sly, insinuating tone. 
My Gonzalo, a cracked voice. 

My Stephano, a drunken, carousing sort of chuckle 
mingled with guttural and high-pitched tones. 
My Trinculo, I make light, cute and cowardly. 

LESSONS TO BE DRAWN. 

What lesson must I teach in the reading of this play : 

1. "The Tempest" is a play of enchantment. 

"The Tempest" teaches forgiveness. 

"The Tempest" shows power of learning over nature. 

"The Tempest" contrasts lower and higher man. 

' ' The Tempest ' ' shows the sorrow we feel in giving 
up a task which has long engaged our efforts; for 
Shakespeare was undoubtedly thinking of his retirement 
from professional life when he wrote ' ' The Tempest. ' ' 

CELEBRATED QUOTATIONS. 

The most celebrated quotations in ' ' The Tempest ' ' 
are: 

1. "Misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows." 

2. ' ' There be some sports are painful, and their labor 

delight in them sets off. ' ' 

3. "These our actors, 

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 

Are melted into air, into thin air; 

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision 

The cloud-capp 'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 



The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
And like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. ' ' 

ASSUMING MOODS. 

The reader must be plastic. He must be flexible, 
physically and mentally. He must be able to pass rapidly 
from one mood to another. Thought and emotion pre- 
cede action. The power to discover thought and feeling 
ms one advances in reading is an accomplishment most to 
be sought. The great breadth of the reader's sympathy 
and the power of his suggestion must be taxed to the 
utmost in the reading of a great play. 

EXERCISES IN "MACBETH." 

1. Imagine yourself one of the witches in ' ' Mac- 
beth, ' ' standing in a wild, desert place, while the winds 
blow and the skies threaten. Filled with maliciousness, 
dread, horror and suspicion foretell the future meet- 
ing with Macbeth. Crouch down, contract the torso, 
make the hands like claws aud look out of the corners 
of the eyes with the chin protruded. Try to take upon 
yourself the situation. 

2. Imagine yourself possessed of an uncontrollable 
desire to possess greatness — a crown. Put yourself in 
Macbeth 's place after the meeting with the witches, when 
murder is born in his heart. Express his hypocrisy, 
which is always used to cover guilt. 

3. Imagine yourself Lady Macbeth. Walk with her 
exultingly as she passes through the palace reading 
Macbeth 's letter full of promises for their greatness, 
and cry with her in exultation : ' ' Thou shalt be what 
thou art promised. ? ' Exult with her as her woman 's 
heart reaches out for greatness. 

4. Contemplate with Macbeth the assassination 
which .precipitates his downfall. Imagine the bloody 



dagger dancing before your eyes. Defiantly deny the 
possibility of its existence. 

5. Imagine yourself Macbeth after the committing 
of the crime. Crouch, shudder, start abruptly, look 
about, clench the hands, cringe horror-struck with the 
first pangs of conscience and fear of discovery. Cry with 
him: "Wake Duncan with thy knocking: I would thou 
could 'st ! " 

6. Try to feel Macbeth } s defiance when he meets his 
foe and shouts; not in heroism, but in desperation: 
"Lay on Macduff; and damned be him who cries, 
' Hold, enough. ' ' ' 

7. Try to feel Macbeth 's sorrow when, forsaken 
and defeated, he contemplates the uselessness of such a 
life as his. Cry with him as, broken-hearted, he exclaims : 

' ' To-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. ' ' 

8. Imagine yourself Lady Macbeth, as in a dazed 
condition she cringes, gropes her way through the cold, 
dark damp of the castle at Dunsinane; rubbing your 
hands to rid them of the stains, shudderingly you cry: 
" Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " and stagger off the scene. 

CONCLUSIONS. 

Contemplate the nemesis of crime; consider the cer- 
tainty of retribution. 

PHYSICAL CULTURE. 

The reader should constantly tone his voice and body 
by exercises that give flexibility and responsiveness. 

EXERCISES. 

1. Contracting, relaxing. 

2. Bending. 

4S 



3. Stretching. 

4. Deep breathing. 

5. Harmonic poise. 

VOCAL EXERCISES. 

1. Sliding the vowels. 

2. Prolonging the vowels. 

3. Pronouncing the vowels in all qualities and modu- 
lations. 

4. For deepening the voice : aspirate " ha " and 
vocalize "ho." 

5. Practice "up up," "up up up," and the short 
vowels. 

6. For vibration of tone : practice ' ' 1, m, n, r. ' ' 

7. For placing the voice: practice "e, ah." 
S. Practice tone-coloring. 

9. Practice articulation. 
10. Practice emphasis, melody and phrasing. 

PRACTICE IN STYLE. 

Various qualities or elements of expression may be 
developed by practice. The form of expression becomes 
habitual and the reader can put it on or off at will, as 
he must do the mood which prompts it. The reader may 
or may not feel the emotion he portrays after having 
rendered it many times, but he will reach his highest 
possibilities only when heart, head and body respond in 
one grand harmony. 

VARIETY OF STYLE. 

Effects in reading, as in other arts, are obtained by 
contrasts. Murillo 's ' ' Madonna ' ' is most expressive 
because the pure, white features of the virgin are set 

49 



in a deep background of shadows blending into darkness. 
Eapid and slow movement, loud and soft voice, high and 
low pitch, light and heavy tones, must be employed to 
express the various contrasts in emotion and thought, 
but must be so blended that the continuity of the sub- 
ject may be retained. 

Perhaps "Antony and Cleopatra," one of Shake- 
speare 's four Eoman plays, is the most suited to illus- 
trate variety of style. The reading of this play gives 
the reader every opportunity to cultivate his power of 
vocal and physical expression. The character of Cleo- 
patra, particularly, is portrayed as giving expression to 
itself in a panorama of emotions. In her first scene 
with Antony, she gives expression to playful sarcasm: 

"Fulvia, perchance, is angry, or, who knows 
If the scarce bearded Caesar have not sent 
His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this.' ' : 

In her next line she gives expression to her sagacity: 
"Why did he marry Fulvia and not love her?" 

Then to dissembling: 

"I'll seem the fool I am not." 

Then she shows her knowledge of dealing with men in love : 

Char. "In each thing give him way, cross him in 

nothing. ' ' 
Cleo. ' ' Thou teachest like a fool ; the way to lose 

him." 

Then to fearlessness: 

"He shall have every day a several greeting, 
Or I '11 unpeople Egypt. ' ' 

She shows her ehangeableness when she says: 

"Give me some music — 
Let it alone; let's to billiards; 
Give me mine angle, we '11 to the river ! ' ' 



Her uncontrollable temper is exhibited in her scene with 
Anthony 's messenger : 

Cleo. "I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou 

speak 'st. ' ' 
Mess. "He's married to Oetavia. " 

Cleo. ' ' The most infectious pestilence upon thee ! 

Hence, horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes 
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head." 

Her quick and unqualified forgiveness is shown to fol- 
low immediately : 

' ' Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call. 
These" hands do lack nobility, that they 
Strike a meaner than myself; since I, myself, 
Have given myself the cause." 

Her patriotism is with her a passion: 

"A charge we bear i' the war, 
And as the president of my kingdom, will 
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it; 
I will not stay behind. ' ' 

Her cunning and deceit are shown, when, after betraying 
Antony to the enemy, she tries his love for her by pre- 
tending she is dead: 

"To the monument! 
Bring me word how he takes my death! " 

Her power to love is overwhelming, and with all her 
falseness, deceit, cunning, hypocrisy and craft, she is 
controlled by her love for the mighty warrior, Mark 
Antony. When he hears that she is dead, he tries to 
take his own life, and then hearing that Cleopatra has 
tried him by that false report, he begs to be carried to 
her where she is located in her monument : 

Antony. il I am dying, Egypt, dying!" 

51 



Cleo. "Noblest of men woo 't die! 

Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide 
In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
No better than a stye? O, see, my women, 
The crown of life cloth melt, my lord! 
O, withered is the garland of the war, 
And there is nothing left remarkable 
Beneath the visitirjg moon." 

Then her composure and womanliness take possession 
of her: 

"Good sirs, take heart; 
We '11 bury him ; and then, what 's brave, what 's noble, 
Let 's do it after the high Eoman fashion. ' ' 

Her death is as peaceful as her life has been tem- 
pestuous. Applying the asp to her bosom, she goes to 
sleep, gently breathing the name of Antony. 

STRENGTH OF STYLE. 

The development of strength of style may be carried 
on by the study of "Julius Caesar." This is a play of 
political ambition. Brutus is a man too noble to cope 
with intriguers. It shows the power of oratory to sway 
the hearts of a people. It shows that anarchy is a mis- 
take. 

EXERCISES IN " JULIUS CAESAR." 

1. Practice the dignified bearing of Brutus. Assume 
the air of nobility which represents the man of heart and 
head. 

2. Contrast the above attitude with that of the 
more petulant Cassius. 

3. Imagine the satisfaction which Cassius feels when 
he finds he has successfully touched the heart of Brutus 
and turned its beatings for a moment away from Caesar, 
whom he loves. Exclaim with Cassius, filled with the 
sense of victory: 



"Now let Caesar seat liim sure, 
For we will shake him or worse days endure. ' ' 

4. Assume the various characters of the play, keep- 
ing in mind the magnificent manhood of that age and 
the heroic bearing and lofty mien which the character of 
Caesar would seem to require for its expression. Exclaim 
with him: 

' ' For always I am Caesar ! ' ' 

5. For exercise in strength, imagine Brutus and 
Cassius having effected their plot to destroy Caesar. 
Caesar is seated in the Senate House. Decius rushes for- 
ward crying : ' ' Speak, hands for me!" Caesar has 
fallen. Shout with the conspirators: 

1 ' Liberty, freedom and enfranchisement ! ' ' 

6. Imagine yourself the young Octavius, successfully 
entering Borne with a noble army, Mark Antony by his 
side. Shout with him: 

' ' Traitors, if you will fight, come to the field. 
If not, when you have stomach." 

7. For an oppositional exercise, take upon yourself 
the spirit of dejection which takes possession of Brutus 
after discovering the body of Cassius; he seats himself 
upon a rock and asks his slave to take his life. 

8. Assume the normal attitude of Mark Antony 
as he stands beside the body of Brutus and says to the 
camp : 

' ' This was a man. ' ' 

THE READER'S AIM. 

1. The aim of the reader is to convey the thought 
of the line by use of proper emphasis, pitch, pause and 
inflection. 



2. The emotion of the line by proper gesture, facial 
expression and quality of tone. 

3. The character of the person supposed to be speak- 
ing the line. 

4. The most important aim of the reader is to 
ennoble his interpretation by his own personality. The 
test of the reader as an artist is not in what he has but 
what he is. 



NINTH TALK 

SUGGESTIVE STUDIES IN SHAKESPEARE 

We stud}- literature to know life. We study Shake- 
speare because he knew life better than any other Eng- 
lish poet. In the types that Shakespeare portrays we 
study the causes and results of action. We see how the 
protagonist of the play creates its action and brings 
about its nemesis. In studying Shakespeare we are 
studying ourselves. By such study we acquire judgment 
and self-control. Self-control is the reader's chief 
requirement and it is the end of all true culture. 
Anatomists have dissected the bodies of men, but Shake- 
speare in the twenty years of his authorship seems to 
have dissected the very soul of humanity. 

Shakespeare, born in the very heart of England, 341 
years ago, is the idol not only of the litterateurs of the 
world, but of all the people who know him. Without 
creed, without polities, without any restraint at all he 
knew the heart of the world and portrayed ;t. 

In studying his dramatic works we should first learn 
the stories of the plays and their central ideas, 

' l Macbeth " is a play of ambition. 

' ' Othello " is a play of jealousy. 

"Julius Caesar" is a play of political ambition. 

"Borneo and Juliet" is a tragedy of love. 

' ' Titus Andronicus "is a tragedy of vengeance. 

' ' Henry V. " is a song of national triumph. 

"Hamlet" is a psychological drama. 

1 ' The Tempest " is a drama of enchantment. 

"As You Like It" is a pastoral comedy, setting forth 
the beauties of country life. 

' ' Midsummer Night 's Dream " is a drama of fancy. 

"Coriolanus" sets forth a contest between plebeians 
and patricians. 



"King John" is a tragedy of usurpation. 

' ' Henry VIII. ' ' shows the criminality of divorce. 

' ' Henry VI. ' ' treats of the ' ' War of the Roses. ' ' 

' ' Timon of Athens " is a tragedy of misanthropy. 

"Measure for Measure" shows forth the hypocrite 
and the power of purity. 

"All's Well That Ends Well" shows the reward of 
patient endurance and fidelity. 

' ' Twelfth Night " is a play of mistaken identity ; so 
also, is the "Comedy of Errors." 

' ' Love 's Labor 's Lost " is a play of affectation and 
conceit. 

"King Lear" is a tragedy of filial ingratitude or 
domestic relations violated. 

"Pericles" is a tragedy of self -banishment. 

"Richard III." is a tragedy of hypocrisy and ambi- 
tion. 

' ' Richard II. " is a tragedy of dethronement. 

' ' Henry IV. ' ' sets forth the punishment and sup- 
pression of rebellion. 

' ' Much Ado About Nothing " is a war of wits. 

' ' Merry Wives of Windsor ' ' sets forth the punish- 
ment of a libertine. 

' ' Two Gentlemen of Verona " is a play of friendship. 

"Merchant of Venice" is a tragical comedy of 
avarice and revenge. 

' ' Taming of the Shrew " is a comedy of discipline. 

1 ' Troilus and Cressida ' ' contrasts fidelity and faith- 
lessness. It is a story of the Trojan War. 

' ' Cymbeline " is a play of early Britain and is the 
portrayal of woman's virtue triumphant. 

' ' Henry VIII. ' ' is the portrayal of an ideal queen. 

We may next look at the characteristics of individual 
types. Isabella, in "Measure for Measure" is actuated 
by religious enthusiasm; Lady Macbeth by ambition; 
Cleopatra by passion; Cordelia by sincerity; Volumnia 
by patriotism; Helena by lofty purpose. Beatrice is a 
disdainful wit; Rosalind is a merry wit; Rosaline is a 
severe wit ; Desdemona is gentle ; Miranda is unso- 

56 



phisticated; Portia is intellectual; Juliet is senti- 
mental. Julietta, jSTerissa and Celia are similar types, 
distinguished for brightness and charm of manner. 

Macbeth and Banquo are men similarly tempted; 
Macbeth yields because his heart is wicked. Lear is the 
imperialist; Brutus and Hamlet are philosophers; 
Romeo is the lover; Eichard II. is an eccentric king; 
Henry V. an ideal king; Mark Antony is the orator; 
Benedick the wit and Prospero the magician. 

In all oiir study of Shakespeare we are impressed 
with his skill in the use of contrast and alliteration; his 
fearlessness; his frequent carelessness in detail; his 
undaunted plagiarism; the boundless variety of his 
characters; his ever-changing style, but most of all with 
the ethical soundness of his works. 

Shakespeare undoubtedly wrote his plays without the 
aim of teaching lessons or building character; but the 
student of Shakespeare's plays, like the student of 
other forms of art, is able to draw from these con- 
centrated idealizations of thought and emotion the great 
lessons of life. Critically judging the relations of tlie 
characters to each other and to themselves, he will be 
able to apprehend that philosophy which is the basis of 
all character building. 

We shall find that Shakespeare is a teacher of morals 
and religion; his ethics are the sound principles which 
Christianity sets forth. 

Crime, in all its forms, receives its condemnation, 
and virtue is always rewarded with praise, if not with 
its justification. Purity is taught by the character of 
Isabella, in ' ' Measure for Measure, ' ' and she is rewarded 
for her fidelity to that higher Christian ideal, which 
dominates her life. 

One of the most impressive lessons in temperance is 
taught in ' ' Othello ' ' in the character of Cassio. 

Fidelity is beautifully portrayed in the character of 
Cordelia, who, though exiled by her father to France, 
returns from thence, with an army, to rescue him when 

57 



her hypocritical sisters have turned him out into the 
night and storm. 

The awful punishments which men bring upon them- 
selves by their own evil thoughts and deeds are set forth 
in the character of Macbeth, whose life ends with a 
cry of desperation, and in that of Lady Macbeth, who 
vanishes from sight with a moan; again in Othello, 
whose rash and turbulent nature, overwhelmed by 
unfounded jealousies, hurls him on to ruin and despair. 

The punishment of anarchy is shown in "Julius 
Caesar," wherein the leading conspirators, Brutus and 
Cassius, take their own lives, leaving Octavius Caesar 
triumphant in the field. 

The punishment of avarice and revenge is shown in 
' ' The Merchant of Venice, ' ' wherein Shylock, who has 
sacrificed all for gain, loses all and saves his lif e only 
through the Christian clemency of the duke. 

The punishment of conceit and vanity is humorously 
set forth in the ' ' Merry "Wives of Windsor, ' ' wherein 
Falstaff is thrown into the Thames, beaten as a witch 
and finally burned by the tapers of supposed fairies, all 
because he thinks himself admired where he is only 
laughed at. 

Forgiveness is taught in ' ' The Tempest. ' ' The 
whole philosophy of Prospero is taught in these words: 

' ' The rarer action is in virtue, 
Than in vengeance." 

The nobility of friendship is beautifully portrayed 
in the reconciliation of Brutus and Cassius after the cele- 
brated quarrel scene in ' ' Julius Caesar. ' ' 

The virtue of woman is portrayed throughout the 
pages of Shakespeare, notwithstanding that he only 
wrote four lines in the praise of woman. 

The beauties of learning are set forth in ' ( The Tem- 
pest, ' ' and. the power of science is foretold by Ariel 's 
flights through space. 



The wisest of all Shakespeare's plays is "Troilus 
and Cressida. ' ' The play contains one of the best 
known aphorisms in the world: 

' ' One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. ' ' 
And the noble truth that: 

' ' In the reproof of chance lies the true proof of men. ' ' 

Disobedience is punished in ' ' Eomeo and Juliet, ' ; 
where these foolish children sacrifice their lives for their 
passions. 

Family feuds are punished, too ; for the reconciliation 
of the Capulets and Montagues is procured by the costly 
price of the lives of Eomeo and Juliet, beloved. The 
parents shake hands over their children's dead bodies — 
one of the most touching' pictures in all the pages of 
Shakespeare. 



TENTH TALK 
SENTENCES FOR PRACTICE 

' ' HAMLET. ' ' 

Hamlet, oue of the strongest characters in Shake- 
speare, because he represents deliberation and self-con- 
trol, gives expression to his thoughts in the grandest 
soliloquies ever written. In reading them, we should 
remember what the distinguished critic, George Miles, 
says of Hamlet: 

"Slow, cautious, capricious, he may sometimes be or 
seem to be; but always strong, always large souled, 
always resistless. ' ' 

Also : 

' ' Hamlet 's hands are tied by conscience and by 
faith; Laertes has, practically, neither; has a talent for 
blasphemy; delights in daring the gods to do their 
worst; would be glad to cut a throat in the church." 

In the expression of introspection, we should appear 
to be withdrawn from the outer world to the inner. "We 
shrink from the outer and our expression becomes con- 
eentro — concentric. Our heads are bowed; our hands 
clenched; almost no action is used. The tones of the 
voice are deep, slow and monotonous. 

EXAMPLES. 

In the first soliloquy of Hamlet, his situation is 
revealed to us. The king and queen have both withdrawn, 
smiling upon their new-found happiness, when Hamlet 
exclaims : 

"0, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, 
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! 
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
His canon 'gainst self -slaughter! O God! God! 



How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of tins world ! ' ' 

"But two months dead! — nay, not so much, not two." 

"A little month; or ere those shoes were old, 
"With which she follow 'd my poor father 's body, 
Like Niobe, all tears;— why, she, even she— 
O God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 
Would have mourned longer— married with my uncle, 
My father 's brother ! ' ' 

"It is not, nor it can not come to good : 
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue ! ' ' 

Hamlet's exclamation, at the end of the first act, 
sounds the key-note of his whole character: 

' ' cursed spite, 
That ever T was born to set it right! ". 

In the next soliloquy, which closes the second act, we find 
Hamlet doubting the character of the ghost: 

' ■ The spirit that T have seen may be the devil. ' ' 
He has been visited by the players and exclaims : 

' ' About, my brain ! I 've heard that 
Guilty creatures sitting at a play 
Have by the very cunning of the scene 
Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
They have proclaimed their malefactions'; 
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ. I '11 have these players 
Play something like the murder of my father 
Before mine uncle : I '11 observe his looks ; 
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, 
I know my course. The play's the thing 
Wherein I '11 catch the conscience of the king. ' ' 



Hamlet, having put on "an antic disposition, ' ' to con- 
ceal his purposes, is closely watched by Polonius and 
the king, whose guilt makes him doubly suspicious. 
Hamlet, grieved more deeply than ever, says: 

"To be or not to be — that is the question! " 

' ' Conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o 'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. ' ' 

In the next soliloquy he contemplates revenge ; for in 
the play scene he has been convinced of the king 's gnilt : 

"Now might I do it pat, now he is praying! 
A villain kills my father, and for that, 
I, his sole son, do this same villain send 
To heaven. 

this is hire and salary, not revenge! " 

In the closet scene, Hamlet kills Polonius, thinking 
he is the king; he is then sent to England: 

"How all occasions do inform against me. 
And spur my dull revenge!" 

"Rightly to be great 
Is not to stir without great argument, 
But gently to find quarrel in a straw 
When honor 's at the stake. ' ' 

The most striking speech that Hamlet makes is in the 
grave-yard, when, taking the skull of Yorick in his hand, 
he exclaims: 

"Here hung those lips that I have kissed 

1 know not how oft. AVhere be your gibes now?" 



"Now (Horatio), get you to my lady's chamber, 
And tell her, let her paint an inch thick, 
To this favor she must come; make her laugh at 
that." 

The most celebrated quotation from Hamlet is per- 
haps this: 

' ' Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
When .our deep plots do pall; and that should 

teach us 
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Bough hew them how we will ! ' ' 

After the struggle, horror and confusion of the last 
act, how beautiful and hopeful are the words of Horatio : 

"Good night, sweet prince; 
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. ' ' 

EMOTIONS TO POBTEAY. 

' ' ROMEO AND JULIET. " 

1. Protest — Benvolio: 

"Part, fools; 
Put up your swords; you know not what you do ! " 

2. Command— Prince: 

1 ' Once more, on pain of death, all men depart ! ' ' 

3. Inquiry— Benvolio : 

"What sadness lengthens Borneo's hours?" 

4. Welcome— Capulet: 

"Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes 
Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with 
you. ' ' 



5. Devotion to object in mind — Juliet: 

' ' My only love spring from my only hate ; 
Too early seen, unknown, and known too late. ' ' 

6. Surprise— Nurse: 

"What's this? What's this?" 

7. Admiration — Eomeo : 

"But soft, what light through yonder window 
breaks? 
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun. ' ' 

8. Eeverie— Juliet: 

"Ah, me!" 

9. Salutation— Eomeo : 

"Good morrow, father." 

10. Impatience— Juliet: 

' ' The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse j 
In half an hour, she promised to return. ' ' 

11. Eagerness— Juliet: 

"Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; 
Good, good nurse, speak ! ' ' 

12. Exultation — Juliet: 

"Hie to high fortune; honest nurse, farewell." 

13. Challenge— Mereutio: 

' ' Come, sir, your passado ! ' ' 
65 



14. Desperation— Eomeo : 

"Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain! 
Away to heaven, respective lenity, 
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now ! ' ' 

15. Despair— Eomeo: 

"I am fortune's fool." 

16. Grief— Juliet: 

"Oh, break, my heart; poor bankrupt, break at 
once ! ' ' 

17. Sympathy— Friar : 

"Give me thy hand; 'tis late; farewell; good- 
night. ' ' 

18. Terror— Juliet: 

' ' look ! methinks I see my cousin 's ghost ! ' ' 

19. Doubt— Juliet: 

"What if this be a poison?" 

20. Caution — Nurse: 

' ' Be wary ; look about ! ' ' 

EXERCISES IN CHARACTER STUDY. 

"HENRY V. " — SHAKESPEARE'S IDEAL HERO. 

' ' If Hamlet exhibits the dangers and weakness of the 
contemplative nature, and Prospero, its calm and its 
conquest, Henry V. exhibits the utmost greatness which 
the active nature can attain. "—Doivden. 



Caution : 

' ' May I with right and conscience make this claim \ ' ' 
Determination : 

1 ' Xo king of England, if not king of France ! ' ' 
Friendship (for Scroop) : 

' ' Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
That knewst the very bottom of my soul, 
May it be possible that foreign hire 
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil 
That might annoy my fingers?" 

Forgiveness : 

"Touching our person, seek we no revenge. 
God of his mercy give you 
Patience to endure and true repentance. ' ' 

Courage : 

"Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more! 
Or close the wall up with our English dead! " 

Faith : 

' ' We are in God 's hand, brother, not in theirs. ' ' 

Cheerfulness : 

' ' There is some soul of goodness in things evil 
"Would men observingly distil it out. ' ' 

Devotion : 

"0 God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts! 
Possess them not with fear; take from them now 
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
Pluck their hearts from them!" 



Fearlessness : 

"He which hath no stomach to the fight, 
Let him depart. ' ' 

Defiance : 

' ' Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones ! ' ' 

Piety: 

' ' Do we all holy rites ; 
Let them be sung—' Non nobis, ' and ' Te Deum. ' ' ' 

Frankness : 

"Queen of all, Catherine, break thy thougnts to me 
In broken English; 
Wilt thou be mine?" 

Humility : 

' ' O God, thy arm was here ; 
And not to us, but to thy arm alone 
Ascribe we all ! ' ' 

' ' KING JOHN. ' ' 

Constance, ambitious for her son Arthur, is defeated 
in her aims by the marriage of the French Dauphin 
Lewis, to Blanche of Spain, niece to King John. 

Constance. "Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! 
False blood to false blood join'd? Gone to 

be friends! 
Shall Lewis have Blanche, and Blanche these 

provinces ? 
O boy, then where art thou ? ' ' 
' ' O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! 
My life, my joy, my food, my all the 
world ! ' ' 



WISDOM. 



' TROILUS AXD CRESSIDA. ' 



The play of "Troilus and Cressida" abounds in 
noble thoughts, strongly expressed. The delivery calls 
for slow tempo, distinct utterance, careful phrasing and 
impressive emphasis. Many of the speeches are uttered 
in a sitting posture, or with the arms folded. 

"All designs begun on earth, below, 
Fail in the promised largeness. ' ' 

"O, when degree is snaked, 
Which is the ladder to all high designs. 
Then enterprise is sick ! ' ' 

' ' One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. ' ' 



PLEADING. 

' ' MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ' ' 

The speeches of Isabella to Angelo, when seeking to 
save the life of her brother, Claudio, give opportunity 
for the practice of the expression of pleading. Use sus- 
tained tones, partly covered, long inflections, clasped 
hands and kneeling postures. 

Angelo. "Be satisfied; 

Your brother dies to-morrow ; be content ! ' ' 

Isabella. "0, it's excellent 

To have a giant 's strength ; but it is tyran- 
nous 
To use it like a giant." 

Angelo. ' ' Fare you well. ' ' 

Isabella. "Gentle, my lord, turn back! " 



HYPOCRISY. 

IAGO IN ' ' OTHELLO. J ' 

In the tragic play of ' ' Othello, ' ' the subtle deviltry 
of lago precipitates the ruin of the hero, a man of open 
and generous nature. Iago is a bowing, smiling hypo- 
crite. He hides himself under the cloak of great sin- 
cerity. When by himself, he chuckles over the success 
of his plots to ruin Cassio, a noble lieutenant, and the 
unsuspecting Othello. He should often speak very 
deliberately, with earnestness and as if -weighing his 
words. He should often incline his head toward his 
victim, as if his heart were heavy with sympathy. He is 
a plotter, a schemer. He should fold his arms, rub his 
hands, stoop as men without honor sometimes do when 
seeking favors. Tapping the fingers of one hand against 
the other hand indicates scheming. Speaking of Eoder- 
igo, he says : 

' ' The Moor is of a free and open nature, 
That thinks men to be honest that but seem to be so, 
And will as tenderly be led by the nose 
As asses are. 

I have 't. It is engender 'd. Hell and night 
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. 
Divinity of hell! 

When devils will the blackest sins put on, 
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, 
As I do now ! ' ' 

SUBLIMITY. 

' ' KING LEAR. ' ' 

In King Lear, the highest note of sublimity is struck. 
The tragic element is carried to its most supreme height. 
The characteristics of Lear are rashness, affection and 
imperialism. His bearing is magnificent. His action is 
always forceful, yet broken. The ' ' storm scene ' ' is the 
most perfect example of the sublime in literature. Lear, 



abused by the daughters he has favored, because they 
seemed to love him under the disguise of flattery, goes 
out into the storm and night. Facing the elements, he 



' ' Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ; 
I never gave you kingdom, called you children ; 
You owe me no subscription: then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man; 
But yet I call you servile ministers, 
That have with two pernicious daughters joined 
Your high-engender 'd battles 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul ! ' ' 

"Filial ingratitude! 
Xo, I will weep no more. In such a night to shut me 

out! 
Pour on ; I will endure : 
In such a night as this ! O Began, Goneril ! 
Your old, kind father, whose frank heart gave all— 
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that: 
Xo more of that. ' ' 

King Lear 's death is so pathetic that it is sublime. 
Holding the dead body of Cordelia in his arms, he cries: 

"And my poor fool is hanged! Xo, no, no life. 
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, 
And thou no breath at all? Thou 'It come no more; 
Xever, never, never, never, never! 
Pray you, undo this button; thank you, sir. 
Do you see this'? 
Look there, look there ! ' ' 



PEIDE AND DISDAIN. 

BEATRICE AND BENEDICK IN ' ' MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ' ' 

Pride and disdain are expressed by raising the chin 
slightly, drawing the lips down and by downward glances 
of the eyes. The nostrils slightly protrude and the torso 
is expanded. The weight is frequently thrown on the 
retired leg. 

Beatrice and Benedick are brilliant wits in love 
with each other, but too proud to acknowledge it. Bea- 
trice and Benedick are perfected types of which Rosaline 
and Biron, in "Love's Labor's Lost," are the sugges- 
tions. 

EXAMPLES. . 

Beat. "I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior 
Benedick; nobody marks you." 

Bene. "What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you vet liv- 
ing?" 

Beat. "Is it possible disdain should die while she 

Hath such mete food to feed it as Signior Bene- 
dick?" 

Bene. "Is there any way to show such friendship?" 

Beat. ' ' A very even way, but no such friend. ' ' 

Bene. "May a man do it?" 

Beat. "It is a man's office, but not yours." 

By a clever deception their love for each other is 
made known, and the following dialogue ensues: 

Bene. "A miracle! here's our own hands against our 
hearts. 
Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, 
I take thee out of pity." 

Beat. ' ' I would not deny you, but by this good day 

I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to 

save your life, 
For I am told you were in a consumption." 



Bene. "Peace! I will stop your mouth." 

SIIAKESPEABE 'S WOMEN. 

1. Ambition ("Macbeth"), Lady Macbeth: 

"Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be 
What thou art promised ! ' ' 

2. Purity ("Measure for Measure"), Isabella: 

1 ' Then, Isabel, live chaste, and brother die : 
More than our brother is our chastity. ' ' 

3. Wit (Disdainful) ("Much Ado About Nothing"), 
Beatrice : 

"I have a good eve, uncle; I can see a church by 
daylight. ' ' 

4. Sincerity, Cordelia: 

"I am sure my love's more richer than my 
tongue. ' ' 

5. Faithlessness ("Troilus and Cressida"), Cressida : 

' ' I have a kind of self resides with you ; 
But an unkind self, that itself will leave 
To be another's fool. I know not what I speak." 

6. Eevenge ("Titus Andronicus"), Tamora: 

1 ' I am Eevenge ; sent from the infernal region 
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy soul. ' ' 

7. Weak yielding ("Eichard III.") : 

Gloucester. "Vouchsafe to wear this ring." 
Anne. "To take is not to give." 

73 



8. Coyness ("Henry V."), Princess Katherine: 

"Your majesty shall mock at me; 
I can not speak your English. ' ' 

9. Fidelity ("Cynibeline"), Imogen: 

"What is it to be false? 
To lie in watch there and think on him? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock?" 

10. Innocence ("Pericles"), Marina: 

"Why would she have me kill'd? 
Now, as I can remember, by my troth, 
I never did her hurt in all my life. ' ' 

11. Naturalness ("The Tempest"), Miranda: 

"I am your wife if you will marry me; 
If not, I'll die your maid." 

•12. Shrewishness ("Taming of the Shrew"), Kath- 
erine : 

" I '11 see thee hanged on Sunday first ! ' ' 

13. Gentleness ("Othello"), Desdemona: 

"My love doth so approve him 
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his 

frowns,. 
Have grace and favor in them. ' ' 

14. Fortitude (' ' Winter 's Tale "), Hermione : 

"If powers divine 
Behold our human actions as they do, 
I doubt not then but innocence shall make 
False accusation blush and tyranny 
Tremble at patience. ' ' 



15. Wisdom ("Merchant of Venice"), Portia: 

' ' ' How far that little candle throws its beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world ! ' ' 

16. Xobility ("Henry VIII."), Queen Katherine : 

1 ' Heaven is above all yet ! 
There sits a Judge no king can corrupt. ' ' 

17. Wit (joyous and affectionate) ("As You Like It"), 
Bosalind: 

' ' Well, Time is the old justice that examines 
All such offenders and let Time try ; adieu ! ' ' 

IS. Heroism (Coriolanus), Volumnia: 

' ' Methinks I hear your husband 's drum ; 
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair; 
As children from a bear, the Voices shunning 

him : 
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus— 
' Come on, you cowards, you were born in fear, 
Though you were born in Eome. ' ' ' 

29. Love ("Borneo and Juliet"), Juliet: 

' ' My only love, spring from my only hate ; 
Too early seen, unknown, and known too late." 

20. Mirthfulness ("Merry Wives of Windsor"), Mrs. 
Page: 

• 'We '11 leave proof by that which we will do; 
Wives may be merry, and yet honest, too. ' ' 

21. Cursing ("Eiehard III."), Duchess: 

' ' Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse ! 
My prayers on the adverse party fight; 
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy encl; 
Shame serves tny life and doth thy death 
attend. ' ' 



SHAKESPEARE 'S MEN. 

1. Meditation— Hamlet: 

"We defy augury; 
There's a special providence in the fall of the 

sparrow. ' ' 

2. Hate— Shylock: 

."I hate him, for he is a Christian." 

3. Invocation— Pericles: 

"Yet cease your ire 
Ye angry fires of heaven. ' ' 

4. Admiration— Romeo : 

' ' See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. ' ' 

5. Pride— Caesar: 

"For always I am Caesar." 

6. Revenge — Andronicus: 

' ' Revenge, ye heavens for old Andronicus. ' ' 

7. Dignity ("The Tempest"), Prospero: 

' ' Be free, and fare thee well ! ' ' 

8. Desperation ("Macbeth"), Macbeth: 

"Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first 
cries, ' Hold, enough ! ' " 

9. Wisdom ("Troilus and Cressida"), Troilus: 

"While others fish with craft for great opinion, 
I, with great truth, catch mere simplicity. 
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper 
crowns, 



With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare ; 

Fear not my truth : the moral of my wit 

Is plain and true ; there 's all the reach of it. ' ' 

10. Regret ("Henry VILL"), Cardinal Wolsey: 

"O Cromwell, Cromwell, 
Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies! 
Farewell the hopes of court ; my hopes in heaven 
do dwell ! ' ' 

11. Terror ("Julius Caesar"), Brutus: 

(Enter the ghost of Caesar.) 

"Ha! who comes here? 
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
It comes upon me! Art thou anything? 
Art thou some god, some angel or some devil, 
That makest my blood cold and my hair to 
start ? ' ' 

12. Eage ("King Lear"), Lear: 

' ' Deny to speak with me ? 
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!" 

13. Jealousy ("Othello"), Othello: 

"Haply, for I am black 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That flatterers have, or for I am declined 
Into the vale of years— yet, that's not much- 
She's gone — (Enter Desdemona.) 
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! 
I'll not believe it." 

77 



14. Defiance ( ' ' Coriolanus "), Coriolanus : 

Citizen. ' ' Yield, Marcius, yield ! ' ' 
Coriolanus. "No, I'll die here! " 

15. Fidelity ("As You Like It"), Orlando: 

""What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my 
food?" 
Adam : 

' ' I have five hundred crowns, 
The thrifty hire I saved under your father: 
Take that ; and He that doth the ravens feed. 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age ! ' ' 

Adam speaks with great tenderness, and his some- 
what trembling voice and body suggest his great 
age, then, trying to assume a strength which he has 
not, says: 

"My age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; 
I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all -your business and necessities. ' ' 

16. Cowardice ("Twelfth Night"), Aguecheek: 

' ' Plague on 't, and I 'd thought he had been 
Valiant and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen 

him 
Damned ere I 'd have challenged him. ' ' 

17. Prayer ("Bichard III"), Kichmond: 

"O thou whose captain I account myself 
To thee I do commend my watchful soul 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: 
Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still ! ' ' 



»KY27 



805 



